


Creators, Guide Me.

by sapphicwonder



Series: DAO One shots and Short Stories [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Dalish Lore, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Mahariel (Dragon Age), Requited Unrequited Love, Suicidal Thoughts, The Blight (Dragon Age), Warden Mahariel (Dragon Age), keeper marethari and ashalle are only mentioned btw, theres elvhen language here thats why i say lore, this is solely morrigan and lyna mahariel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicwonder/pseuds/sapphicwonder
Summary: Lyna Mahariel has been bottling up everything wrong with joining the Grey Warden's since she had to leave her clan. After another sleepless night, Morrigan visits her in the woods.





	Creators, Guide Me.

**Author's Note:**

> This needed cleaning up so I did it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Lyna Mahariel wasn’t an existential person by any standards. She knew what she was; Dalish, Elf, orphan, Grey Warden. However no one has made her question herself as much as the golden-eyed enchantress that joined their small party of two, which slowly but somehow suddenly became a group, a family.

Despite the fondness she felt when thinking of the seductive woman, her heart clenched at the thought that she could not return to her clan, even after this was all over. Lyna turned her head to the moon above silently begging for guidance from the Creators, shining brightly over her and offering nothing but her quiet embrace of pale light. She thought both fondly and melancholically about asking for a blessing before a hunt.

How many hunts had been lead without her now? She missed her clan, she missed Merrill, Tamlen… What is she to do when this is over? Who is Lyna Mahariel without Clan Sabrae, without telling enthralling stories to the fledglings and hearing their laughter of joy and the fond smile of the Keeper while she shoo’s the children off to sleep, despite their disappointed protests. 

How will she go on, knowing Morrigan has no intention of staying? Of this, she is sure. She may be quiet, but she is not a fool. Mouth kept drawn in a firm line except to wearily question odd situations, she’s not talkative by any means. Her secrets, emotions, and mind are her own, and she cares not for anyone else’s either. With eyes cooly steeled and face set neutral, one learns much from simply watching. Especially if you happen to be from origins where watching, waiting and listening are crucial. And that woman will never give herself wholly to anyone.

She wonders if, perhaps in another life, her and Morrigan could be granted a chance. The corner of her lips tip upwards in a smile at that, looking down to fiddle with one of her arrows. No, she thinks. A foolish thought indeed. Not even the Creators themselves could change Morrigan, so set in her ways- domesticity does not entrance her. She does not want Lyna any more than she wants to stay. 

_ Crunch. Crunch. Cr-ack. _

From where she sat on a mossy rock, her head shot from her knees as her ears picked up the crunching of leaves somewhere nearby and she holds still. Being a hunter, Lyna naturally had a keen sense of hearing and could tell the footsteps of an animal over human or Elf, but for the first time since she was an apprentice, she is not sure.

“‘Tis an odd place to sleep, even for you, Mahariel.” Morrigan’s form, wrapped in a burgundy cloak they had acquired for her a few weeks ago in their travels, appears in front of her, looking up at the moon.

Lyna holds a hand to her chest mockingly. “And here I thought you were Falon’Din himself, come to guide me in the middle of the night.”

The raven-haired woman ponders this for a moment, turning and sitting next to the brunette on her moss covered rock. “Falon’Din, hm. Your God of.. Death?” Lyna offers no answer, confirming Morrigan’s guess. “Why is it he that you first thought of?”

Two golden eyes pierce the side of Lyna’s head, even if she’s not looking Morrigan’s way, she can feel her stare. “My vallaslin is partially of Dirthamen, the brother to Falon’Din. I suppose he was the first I thought of.” However she falls silent, rubbing the wood of her arrow with her thumb.

A sigh leaves Lyna suddenly, breaking the silence the two had lapsed into after it became clear that Morrigan had no intention of leaving. “I was simply gathering my thoughts, and he was the first to come to mind when you startled me. Does that sate your  _ av'ahn'su'vi'in _ ?”

A contemplative hum left the woman next to her, eyes still eyeing her scrutinizingly. “What?” the short elf demands impatiently, startling the normally impassive woman.

“You seem to be in a state of unrest, and ‘tis the middle of the night that I found you here.”

A scoff left Lyna. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft, witchy. We have no time for that. Or this, to be honest.” In her desperation to keep her defenses up, she snaps. Holds them at arms length. The elf was not an emotional person, not with these people. They may have become  _ lethal’len,  _ but there was no time for this. No time for wallowing in self-pity, for ideations of things that cannot happen. Too many things depend on her.

“Ah, I am not so easy to trick, nor am I so easy to frighten,” Morrigan paused, a small smirk on the edge of her lips before falling serious. “I think of you.. As a sister, after all these months, Ward- Lyna.”

_ Esa’ma’linos...  _ Of course she knew that any affection that the golden-eyed woman could hold for her would be far from romantic. An almost hysterical sob builds up in her chest and she coughs to hold it in as the turmoil builds in her body. This is the opposite of what the hunter needed to hear, but if she tells the other woman that, she’s vulnerable. Leaving yourself vulnerable to anyone is a gamble, but leaving yourself vulnerable to Morrigan is a death sentence.

Swallowing thickly, she slowly replies to keep the tears from coming. “I return the sentiment, Morrigan. You’ve become a good friend.” Her hand is all but clenched around the arrow she holds now, fingers white-tipped but the arrow holds strong under the pressure. Hair normally in a neat bun is messily held up, hair obstructing her view of the beautiful woman beside her, and the other woman's view of her. A lone tear escapes her eye and a small sob makes it past her throat, but she coughs, hoping to fool Morrigan.

“What truly has been on your mind, Mahariel?” Her voice is soft and sultry, inviting her to tell her what’s wrong and she hears Keeper Marethari’s voice, can see Ashalle shaking her head, “ _ Fen'Harel ma ghilana, da’len…” _ Shaking her head, she clenches and unclenches her fist, ignoring the unbidden thought of Wynne warning her similarly to the Keeper’s voice in her head. A warm hand is laid on her arm and Lyna’s head moves to look at Morrigan, eyes filled with unshed tears and face red with the effort to not cry.

“I…” Her voice is scratchy and raw. A real sob makes it out and her ears down to her chest redden with embarrassment. Quickly she looks away and forces the moisture out of her eyes with her hands, standing up abruptly. “... Am going to bed.”

Brown hair got caught in sticky tears on her face, itchy and annoying, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She had to get far, far from here- to compose herself, to push these feelings away. She can’t afford to be selfish right now.

An unusually warm hand shoots out to grab Lyna’s arm. “Warden- Lyna, wait.” It sounded like a command, spoken so firmly. In her haze of thoughts, she paused. The warmth of Morrigan’s hand on her arm felt like a lullaby, grounding her to the spot and calming the Waking Sea in her mind.

“Tis not often I do this,” Morrigan starts seriously, looking at Lyna with uncertainty. “In fact, I have not done it. However, I have come to care about you. I implore you, dear friend,  _ sister,  _ what plagues our mighty Grey Warden?”

The floodgates break, then. Months of  _ why didn’t Keeper Marethari let the Blight take me, I am nothing without my clan, I miss mamae, Morrigan has ruined my love for anyone else  _ fall through her eyes, rushing down her cheeks like raindrops falling on to leaves in the forest.

A sudden wave of anger flows through her. “What  _ plagues _ me? I am going to die well before my time because there is  _ cursed  _ blood flowing through my veins! I cannot return to my clan because I will lead darkspawn to them and to their ruin! All I can do is  _ hope _ I fall valiantly in that battle because I cannot imagine going on with nothing to live for!” She breathes heavily. “ _ Halam'shivanas…”  _ She spits. “ _ I've'an’rajast halam'shivanas!” _

Her hair is more disheveled than it was previously, her chest is heaving and the sobs are coming freely now. She sits on the ground with her knees to her chest, hiding her face. “I- just- wish- Duncan- had- killed- me.” She grinds out through hiccuping tears, trying in vain to stop but only starting back up again every time she holds it in.

Morrigan stays silent, eyeing the Warden in front of her. She had not known the extent of her turmoil, only noticing recently how she smiled less at Alistair’s stupid one-liners, gave less sarcastic remarks. When the sobs subside and there are only stray tears falling down the brunettes cheeks, the cloaked woman kneels down beside her.

“You must think me weak.” Lyna says, voice raw.

“Weak? You are one of the bravest souls I have ever met.” Is all Morrigan offers before grabbing the other woman’s chin with her hand, using her other hands thumb to wipe away the excess tears. “You will not die in that battle. I will not allow it,” She says, still holding onto Lyna’s chin. Gold stares into striking green and time around them slows.

Lyna says nothing, but Morrigan is stubborn. “Do you understand? I shall not have you die in that battle. I will not.”

The other woman nods slightly, but the golden eyed mage is already planning on talking to the others. They will protect her on the battlefield. Protect each other.

Lyna suddenly pushes off of the balls of her feet and presses her lips to Morrigan’s and a muffled noise leaves her. Her lips are plump and red from crying, and she’s fairly sure there were tears mixed in, but it made it.. Passionate.

Lyna pulls her head out of Morrigan’s hand, breath stolen and looks away. “ _ Ir abelas, _ Er- sorry,” she breathes out.

Morrigan had never considered the company of women. It wasn’t ever really practical to her needs; which generally meant manipulation. But the elf did mean… something, to her. Is that what this means? Attraction?

Firm hands grab the shorter woman's shoulders and pull them to a standing position before grabbing her cheeks with a tenderness she did not know she possessed and pulling her up for a kiss. Lyna melts into it, hands hesitantly finding their way around Morrigan’s waist and pulling her flush against her slowly. They part slowly and Lyna releases her lip gently averting her eyes from Morrigan’s face. When she tries to pull away, probably to retreat, hands go down to pull her back and so she cautiously wraps her arms more firmly around her waist, secretly loving how they fit to each other. She knows somewhere in her mind that this will not last, but she shall savor the feeling and damn the heartache. A nimble hand strokes her unruly hair and untangles it gently.

“Morrigan-”

“Hush.” Is all she says before linking their hands and leading her back to camp, to Morrigan’s camp, specifically. Golden-eyes look at her expectantly, climbing into her tent and waiting for the other woman.

She enters moments later as Morrigan is removing the thick cloak and beginning to remove the robe she had put on underneath. Lyna blushes and looks away, causing Morrigan to raise her eyebrow. “Tis a body; a woman’s body. You also have one. I also distinctly remember you seeing Oghren while he bathed, you’re quite familiar with anatomy, Lyna.” A shudder went through the brunette woman at  _ that  _ memory, she had accidentally walked in on the dwarf. She had no answer for Morrigan, considering she lived in a Clan where there isn’t any privacy, so she just shrugged.

Morrigan continues her work before going to lay on her bedroll, but stops to look at Lyna. “Well? Get undressed, I won’t ask again.”

The short elf takes off her shoes (which are more like leather fitted to her feet than actual shoes) and sets them aside before she begins on her clothes; a simple hunting tunic with soft leather pants, leaving her in her small clothes. A blush adorns her ears, across her cheeks and nose and down to her chest before she lies down on the bedroll with Morrigan.

“Not that I’m..” She coughs uncomfortably. “Complaining, Morrigan, as it isn’t every day an enchanting woman invites you into her bed, but what is happening here?”

The raven-haired woman rolls her eyes before getting comfortable. “Tis to guarantee you sleep tonight, and to keep that turmoiled mind from thinking. Cannot have our leader in disarray, of course.”

Lyna feels warmth start in her heart and spread throughout her body. “Of course.” She agrees in a whisper, but she feels this warmth to her toes and is drunk on the feeling. She hesitantly moves closer to Morrigan before she hears a scoff and a “oh, for- fine,” and warm arms wrap around her. Encased in the safety (though how safe can one be, surrounded by Morrigan?) of her arms, Lyna begins to drift off, a smile on her face.

“Sleep now,” she thinks she hears Morrigan whisper as her eyes close and a hand passes through her hair. “None will take you from me. None.”

When she wakes, Morrigan is already out of the tent. She sighs, puts her mouth into the thin line it resides in and braces herself for the days to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Fen'Harel ma ghilana, da'len... Fen'Harel (Dread Wolf) guides you, child
> 
> Ir abelas - im sorry/apologies
> 
> source: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Elven_language
> 
> HOWEVER since this is an Update and I have A better Reference, check out Project Elvhen at FenxShiral (link here)
> 
> Translations!
> 
> i've'an’rajast - alright I had to make this one so bear with me: i've'an is the fade or beyond, and rajast is to command or direct. This means, hopefully I’ve done it correctly: “to the beyond with”
> 
> Esa’ma’linos - this is the gender neutral “sibling hood” basically best summary
> 
> Lethal’len - (gender neutral because ‘len) very close friends - blood kin
> 
> av'ahn'su'vi'in - curiosity
> 
> halam'shivanas - “Sweet sacrifice of your duty. lit. Do your duty to the end.“


End file.
